Loving the Enemy
by Dreams Of Falling
Summary: Amanda Elliot is a witch with good reason to hate Sirius Black. Now he's escaped from Azkaban and she's been plunged into a nightmare that gets worse when she falls back in time to the Marauders. Only she likes Sirius more than she thought possible.
1. Chapter 1

The sun was shining through the trees, birds chirped from the high branches and a warm breeze stirred the air. The blue sky reflected off the lake and created a picture-perfect beauty, almost surreal in nature. Hogwarts. A pair of dragonflies hovered just above the water and sunlight glinted off their rainbow wings. Despite the deep tranquillity of the moment, Amanda Elliot could sense unrest and tension hanging in the air. Something was not right. In fact, that was a bit of an understatement. It was one of the worst days of Amanda's life; and that was saying something.

The beauty around her paled in significance to the news she'd just received. _He_ was free. The man who had ruined her life, made her an orphan and only child all in one bloody night. A night that she hadn't even been present for. She hadn't even been able to say goodbye. How stupid was fate?

He was free. It was plastered all over the newspapers. She wasn't sure how Dumbledore had been able to keep her in the dark as long as he had considering it was the news everyone was talking about. The first person to ever break out of Azkaban. Amanda hoped the dementors found him and sucked out his soul; it'd serve him right after the damage he'd done, ruthlessly murdering thirteen innocent people. She hoped that they did it nice and slowly. Twelve years in prison wasn't enough to make up for thirteen lives lost; not even close. If she could get her hands on him for an hour . . . Ah but that would never happen.

Amanda paused at a gargoyle and ran a hand through her hair, trying to remember the password. The headmaster had quite a sweet tooth. Acid pops? Jelly slugs?

"Ice mice!" she exclaimed. The gargoyle began moving and Amanda stepped onto the ground next to it as it ascended to the headmaster's office. She'd been up this way many times before, but it always made her nervous, as if she'd done something wrong and just couldn't remember what.

Dumbledore's office was empty and Amanda frowned. He'd asked her to meet him here, so where was he? Dumbledore was never late. She glanced around the room and noticed a few things that were new since last time she visited: a portrait of a young girl with red hair hung above the door and in the far corner was a strangely ornate bench with a sink set into it. Amanda walked over and peered inside, seeing the misty substance that swirled inside it. She knew what it was without having to be told. A pensieve. The place where Dumbledore stored his old memories. She'd never imagined being so close to such a wonderful store of knowledge and the idea of actually having access to it made her knees weak. She was in Ravenclaw for a reason. Amanda craved new knowledge like others craved chocolate. It was her bread and butter, the thing that made her world go around. And to be so close to the memories of a man as old and wise as Albus Dumbledore – it fairly blew her mind.

Amanda looked over her shoulder and muttered, "Come on, Dumbledore. Hurry up."

Fawkes was sitting in the corner and titled his head at her words. She shivered, feeling remarkably like he was watching to make sure she didn't mess anything up.

"What're you looking at?" she asked. Unsurprisingly, Fawkes didn't answer. Amanda found her attention drawn back to the pensieve and she bounced nervously on the spot. _So much knowledge_. It was taunting her, and she didn't like it. How many people had an opportunity like this one? How many would pass it up?

"Oh, screw it," she said, reaching her hand down to the memories. "What could go wrong?"

Later, that would be the moment she looked back on as the first portent of doom.

The world started spinning and writhing before her eyes, tilting up and down until she thought she was going to lose her breakfast in Dumbledore's pensieve. How terrible that would be. When the world finally righted itself, she realised that she was no longer in Dumbledore's office. She was downstairs in the Great Hall and it was filled with unfamiliar students. A group of first years were gathered at the front, shifting nervously from foot to foot. They were at the welcome banquet, Amanda decided, and the sorting was about to take place. She studied the first years curiously and wondered why she'd been brought into this particular memory. Had it been accessed recently? What was the significance?

Professor McGonagall pulled a list of names from her pocket and read the first one. "Sirius Black."

Amanda's stomach plummeted to her shoes. _Oh my god,_ she thought, desperately scanning the crowd of kids. _Oh my god!_ No wonder she'd been brought back to this moment. This was when it all began; when _he_ started studying at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was a small kid, not very impressive. Short in stature with scruffy black hair and eyes that were nearly glacial, he stalked to the sorting hat with a smirk that already hinted at the wizard he would become. At the _monster_ he would become, she corrected herself. Even at eleven years of age he thought he was better than everyone else. Amanda was frozen to her seat as she watched the sorting hat deliberate, appearing to wage a silent war with itself.

"Gryffindor!" it called out eventually. McGonagall read another name off the list and then Amanda felt the world up-ending again.

This time she had the forethought to brace herself and wasn't nearly as disoriented when she stopped at a new setting – or rather, memory. She was back in Dumbledore's office, but it wasn't his office as she knew it. The Professor himself sat behind the desk, flicking through a stack of papers. Amanda was tempted to say hello but knew that he wouldn't be able to hear her. Behind her, the door opened and she experienced the same gut-wrenching sensation of betrayal at the sight of a slightly older Sirius Black entering the room. Why hadn't Dumbledore seen his evil heart? Although, admittedly, Sirius Black didn't look evil. Not this incarnation, anyway. He was only a few years into puberty and his limbs were long and lanky, his hair fell over one eye and his robes were patched up in a few places. He still carried himself proudly though, with his shoulders back and head held high. Dumbledore looked up from his work and smiled.

"Ah, Mr Black; how can I help you today?"

Sirius Black raised a haughty eyebrow. "I was under the impression it was you who wanted to see me, sir."

"You are correct, of course, Mr Black. It was merely a . . . pleasantry," he replied. "I wanted to inquire after your mother."

"My mother?" Black asked doubtfully.

"She is a singular woman, is she not?" Dumbledore continued.

"That would be one way of putting it," Black muttered, glancing down at his shoes. "I can't really say, sir. My mother and I are somewhat estranged. I guess it'd be too much to hope she'd crawled into a corner and died?"

Dumbledore pretended he hadn't heard Black's question, but Amanda gasped at his callous attitude and cruelty. Sirius Black truly was a beast.

The floor gave way beneath Amanda one final time, and she clenched her hands into fists, opening her eyes to a setting completely different to any that had come before. She was in a homely lounge where several people were gathered in the centre of the room. Overcome by curiosity, Amanda edged closer and peered over someone's shoulder. A baby boy was lying in a bassinet, gurgling happily as a dark-haired man twirled a mobile over his head. The man raised his head and she did another take. It was _him_ again. Was there no escaping this nightmare? Sirius Black grinned at the man standing next to her; a guy in his early twenties with black hair and glasses. _Don't you know?_ Amanda wanted to demand. _Can't you see what he is?_ She tried to grab the man's shoulders to shake him but her hands didn't meet any resistance and passed straight though him. He looked familiar, but she couldn't figure out why.

"Will you be the godfather?" the man asked Black.

There was a tugging on Amanda's stomach and then she was jerking free of the pensieve; free from Dumbledore's memories of a murderer. Amanda put her hands over her heart to try and calm the racing beat, but it was no good. Agitatedly, she picked up the nearest object – a delicate chain with a glass sphere suspended on it – and started twisting it around. She couldn't make sense of all that she'd just seen. What could it possibly mean? She clamped her fist closed around the glass and gave it a good shake, purely out of frustration. It was only when she looked down that she finally realised what it was. Only it was far, far too late to fix the damage. Amanda had been fiddling with a time-turner.


	2. Chapter 2

Before Amanda had time to work out how many times she'd twisted the time turner, and the length of time each turn would take her back, the world was turning into a blur around her as time rewound. She looked over at the window and watched as the sun rose and sank again and again, accelerating until it was just a rapid flicker. This was _not_ good. She was going way back. Way, way back. Years, if not decades. Amanda squeezed her eyes shut tightly and mentally berated herself. She'd really done it this time! Awful things happened to witches who time travelled; the further back, the worse the consequences inevitably were. Gradually, the spinning slowed and time returned to its usual pace. She grabbed a nearby cupboard to steady herself and clutched her stomach with the other hand to try and avoid throwing up. Time travel didn't always agree with her.

"Who, my dear, are you?"

She spun around at the sound of a voice and jumped when she saw Professor Dumbledore sitting behind the desk. He looked the same as always so maybe she hadn't gone back too far.

"Um, professor," she said slowly, unsure of whether to tell him the truth or if that would mess up the timeline. Unfortunately he caught sight of the time turner clasped in her fist and nodded understandingly.

"Ah, I see. Why don't you take a seat and you can tell me the whole story shortly. I have two young men to speak with first."

Amanda nodded and sank into the worn armchair in the corner while Dumbledore rose and opened the office door just as a boy was about to knock on the other side. The boy lowered his raised fist and grinned sheepishly. "Professor," he greeted.

Dumbledore stepped back and waved him inside, "Come in, Mr Potter, and bring your friend as well."

Amanda turned the chair around to face the other direction so she wouldn't feel like she was intruding and listened closely to the conversation instead. Perhaps if she picked up enough clues she'd be able to figure out what time period this was.

There was a bit of shuffling and then the door clocked shut. Supposedly both boys were inside.

"I assume you know why I've called you up here," Dumbledore stated. Amanda couldn't tell if this was meant to be a question or not.

"Is it about the stink bombs in the girls' bathroom?" a smooth, deep voice drawled.

"Very perceptive. Need I doubt your guilt?"

"No, sir." The boy Dumbledore had called Mr Potter replied.

"Good. Now as penance, you shall both return here after dinner tonight.  
>"What, precisely, do you want us to do sir?" Potter asked.<p>

Amanda could almost see the glint in Dumbledore's eye as he replied, "All will reveal itself in good time, Mr Potter. For now, enjoy your night."

There was a brief mumbling and scraping as the boys left the room and Amanda turned back around to face the professor. He didn't say a word, just raised an eyebrow. Amanda sighed.

"My name is Amanda Elliot, sir. I'm from the year 1994. I didn't mean to come back, I swear it. I'd been looking into your pensieve and was a bit upset. I started twisting the time turner before I even realised what it was. And know I don't know what to do."

Dumbledore's eyebrow rose even further. "I trust you found what you sought from my pensieve, Miss Elliot."

Amanda winced and braced herself for the tongue-lashing that would surely follow. However, after several seconds, it still hadn't come and she peeked up to see him wink at her.

"Unfortunately, memories, like time, are strange things. They can show us nothing but the truth, whatever that may be. You are here for a reason, my dear. Now you can go ahead and twist yourself back into the future if that is what you desire, but you may like to stay a while. Fate always has a plan, but she never tells us what it is."

Her heart was racing. Was he actually suggesting that she stay here? What about all the terrible things that could happen? What about the damage she could wreak if she changed the past? On the other hand, she must view this as a unique opportunity presented to her and her alone. No other Ravenclaw had ever had the chance to learn about the past by actually living it. This was like a dream come true. _Hang on,_ a voice in the back of her head warned, _the last time you took advantage of opportunity you saw something you didn't want to see_.

"Sir," she said slowly, "Are you offering to let me . . . stay?"

"I am merely offering to forget where you can from, Miss Elliot," he said seriously. "As far as I am concerned, you have been homeschooled until now and that necklace in your hand is nothing but precious jewellery that I recommend you never let out of your sight lest a situation arises in which you must use it. Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Amanda."

Amanda, of course, accepted Professor Dumbledore's offer to stay. How could she refuse? He had her outfitted for a uniform, since they were slightly different to the modern one, and provided her with the text books. He asked if she would like to be sorted into a house, but she told him firmly that she was a dedicated Ravenclaw and no other house would do. Smiling slightly, he didn't argue. Amanda was sitting in Dumbledore's office waiting for him to come back when someone knocked on the door. She suspected that she should just leave it alone and mind her own business, but curiosity got the better of her and she opened the door. Two boys about her age were standing on the other side, frowning in surprise. One of them she recognised from earlier. He was tall and thin with dark hair, glasses and a pleasant enough face. The other boy had longer black hair that fell across one very blue eye, was smirking very aristocratically, and was totally drop-dead gorgeous. He seemed familiar, but Amanda couldn't place him until he scowled and she immediately remembered the sour-faced first year from Dumbledore's memory. _Oh my God, Sirius Black!_ She stumbled back in horror and tripped over a trunk, landing in a heap on the floor.

"Oh look Prongs, the sight of your face made her faint in terror," Sirius Black commented, smirking at his friend.

"Shut up, Padfoot," Potter snapped. "I daresay it was your face that made her faint."

"I did not faint!" Amanda snapped, drawing their attention back to her. "I just tripped over."

"Where are my manners?" Potter asked, offering her a hand up. She ignored his hand and climbed stiffly to her feet, metaphorical hackles rising.

"Get out," she ordered. "Now!"

Black raised an eyebrow mockingly. "This was Dumbledore's office, last time I checked."

"I don't care," she could hear her voice rising shrilly and knew that under the circumstances, she was overreacting. Sirius Black was not a murderer yet. Nor did he know he was going to become one. He was just another big-headed high school boy.

Potter smiled at her. "Sorry we got off on the wrong foot here, so to speak. My name is James."

Amanda narrowed her eyes at him. James Potter. The friend that Black would betray. She was so tempted to tell him everything that was going to happen in the future but realised he'd think she was crazy.

"Look, I don't care if your name is Cassanova, I just want you to leave."

"I think she's serious," James said in disbelief.

Black grinned. "I think someone's PMS-ing," he sang. Amanda couldn't help herself. She swung her fist back and punched him in the nose. He howled and staggered back in shock. Crimson blood was seeping out of one nostril and he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket to clean it up. James Potter howled with laughter.

"Blimey that was a good one. You should've seen your face, Padfoot."

Black glared at him from beneath his hair, then turned to Amanda. "You should consider yourself lucky I don't hit girls," he said quietly. "But if you try that again I can't promise not to hex you."

Amanda was still recovering from the shock of actually punching someone, and massaged her sore knuckles. Damn, that hurt. Wasn't the point to hurt someone else, not yourself? Huffing in anger, she placed a hand on each of their chests and shoved them both out of the office, then slammed the door in their faces and locked it. A few minutes Professor Dumbledore tapped on the door and demanded that she open it. She did so with great reluctance.

"Miss Elliot, unconventional as ever." He studied her over the tops of his half-moon spectacles. "I see you've met your guides to Hogwarts."

Amanda swore. She actually swore in front of the headmaster as James Potter and Sirius Black watched her curiously through the open door.

"You've got to be kidding, right?"


End file.
